The two creatures adjusted, their movements syncing—eerie, deliberate, like two marionettes sharing a single mind. The air between them buzzed with that humming resonance, vibrating through Isabella's teeth until she could taste the sound.
They stopped mimicking her now. No more copycatting her swings or timing. No, they'd learned her rhythm—learned her. Every feint, every recoil, every heartbeat she gave away in her breathing.
"Alright," she muttered, chest rising and falling fast. "Two ugly bastards. One tired, pregnant woman with a fan. Fantastic odds."
They respond to movement, Bubu reminded her flatly. If you stand still—
"Standing still gets me killed, Bubu!" she snapped, dodging hard as a claw skimmed past her arm. It hit the stone beside her, sparks bursting. She rolled across the dirt, dust sticking to her sweat. "And while we're at it, stop giving me advice like a yoga instructor!"
